born in tentative voice…
sadly that so many sentences have
since choked quiet in this throat, scathing
self doubt daring these lips to tell.
and such beauty witnessed i abandoned to fear
forsaking my pens their ink to run bone dry,
the unrecorded curiosity of an innocent imagination.
oh.. the decades white in pages…
and creativity… the purest gift…
hidden secret in wasteful dormancy, a shroud
in numbing cloaks of self medicated apathy
a faux justification of my feigned indifference.
the stark anomaly in my bloodlines…
an empath hyper alive in insensitive worlds
of blank eyes and suspicious glances,
my vulnerability worn like a deer in the clearing.
my back has bent bearing the
weights of this artistic expectation, grieving
unrealized creativity a constant burden, spiritless
this stale soul air filling its void.
sinister angel of drought!
i hear your cruel hiss of darkness
stirring memories echoing my tragic past,
the voice that would swallow me whole.
but i have lived to see my whiskers grey, and
i see my years through the merciful memory of eyes
that never forget… the beauty they’ve seen,
because it’s my innocence i will relive fondly now.
living rightly and whole today
i stand among the alignment of stars
projecting the destiny of a Light within, knowing
my last clean breath… will hold no regrets.
approx. 8″ x 8″ on vellum paper
pencil, watercolor pencil, white and black marker,
wax crayons and sourced from various Google pics
click to enlarge